


Eyeliner

by terryreviews



Category: Fright Night (2011), Laws of Attraction (2004)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25082125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terryreviews/pseuds/terryreviews
Summary: Peter and Thorne need to get ready for their respective gigs after spending all night partying.
Relationships: Thorne Jamison/Peter Vincent
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Eyeliner

**Author's Note:**

> I genuinely love the GO extended/bizarre universe where any/all of their characters can be shipped. It is so fun. And I love these two little sad disasters. They are some of my favorite beautiful boys. 
> 
> I admit that this piece is a little choppy. I wrote it very tired and hastily so I apologize that there is a lot of stilted back and forth, he said/he said stuff in there. I hope that it is enjoyable none the less, thank you for reading I always appreciate it, and I'll do my best next time to make the writing more dynamic :)

“Where the fuck’s the eyeliner?” Thorne pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore the throb in his temples.

With the bathroom door open, he could see Peter’s reflection in the large mirror above the sink as the other man checked himself out as he pissed.

Thorne didn’t need to see himself to know he looked like shit. Eyes ached, head ached, his throat burned, and his tongue tasted like he licked the floor of a night club. Still, he was vain enough to want to look and see what damage control could be done before they had to leave.

He shuffled tot he bathroom, standing behind Peter as the other washed his hands and sighed.

Both of them sported bloodshot eyes, skin tone off and reddish from all the salt and booze they’d consumed the previous night and, with Thorne, his five o’clock shadow had gone from sexy to shaggy. Peter, who tended to shave his face, had developed some stubble.

They made eye contact via the mirror, Peter gave a thin, humorous, smile.

While it was clear Peter was just as trashed as Thorne, he always handled the mornings after far better than Thorne. Hence why he was already up.

Thorne took him in, running a hand over his own chin before saying, “you should keep the scruff, not waste your time with that fake shit.” He waved over to the fake hair and spirit gum in the corner of the sink top counter.

“And look like a bum like you? Besides, the beard and stuff helps the image and when I take it off, it’s easier because people don’t recognize me.” Peter raised his eyebrow as he went about getting ready. Quickly sponging himself off in the sink with a washcloth whilst also brushing his teeth. “You should get ready.” he said around a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Yeah, yeah,” Thorne didn’t have a spare set of clothes here, he couldn’t fit into Peter’s so he decided to say screw it. He cranked the shower and stuck his head into the spray.

“Oi, gonna get water everywhere,” Peter groused, but otherwise said nothing as Thorne ignored him, washed his hair, let the water splash over his arms, catch parts of his upper chest, neck, and upper back, bending practically in half to prevent the water getting on his jeans. Didn’t fancy having to blow dry them with the hair dryer.

He blindly reached up to switch the water off, accidentally turning it to freezing causing him to yelp and Peter to laugh.

Before he could stand up completely and try to race gravity as he searched for a towel, a towel was tossed over his head.

“Forgot the hair gel. Thank god that you usually look like you just got out of bed so just mess it up and let it dry.” Peter was getting ready to do his tattoos.

“Let me,” Thorne shoved his hand out of the way, “just get your face ready handsome,” he teased as he carefully placed the stencil on Peter’s throat. “Don’t you have a team for this?” he absently asked as he began using the marker. Fucking Sharpie of all things, to carefully fill in the design.

“Usually,” Peter shrugged as he applied the spirit gum to his upper lip and chin, pressing on the mustache and beard. “Sometimes though I go on all night binders with smart ass rockstars and need to improvise.”

Thorne snorted and almost colored outside the lines.

“Careful!”

“Your crowd won’t notice if they’re messed up. Christ your on a stage, surrounded by fog, and doing tricks.”

“I’ll notice!” Peter growled, though there was no real bite.

It didn’t take that long for them to finish Peter. They’d done things like this before and with Peter needing the most to get ready (Thorne often took his shirt off during performances, not liking the heat of the lights and also as a little treat to the fans) the two of them would work in tandem to make sure that happened. First time Thorne had to help get the tattoos ready.

“That’s about it,” Peter said, tugging his wig into place. “Just got to toss on the coat and leather pants and I’ll be good to go.”

“Still say you should just grow out the scruff, you’d look less like Rasputin’s scrawny cousin that way.” Thorne teased, earning a shove. Thorne snagged up Peter’s deodorant and sprayed his pits and chest while also looking at the counter. “where’s the eyeliner?” he asked to Peter just as the other went into the main room to change into the un-breathable leather pants he complained so much about.

“Don’t know,” Peter replied as he found his leather pants and began to wiggle forcefully into them. “you still have eyeliner on.”

Thorne glanced at himself again, “yeah, it’s all smudged and fucked up.”

“So aren’t you,” Peter teased but then quickly followed up with, “it looks good all messed up.”

“You just don’t want to look for the rest of your make up case.” Thorne teased back, returning to the bedroom just as Peter managed to get the leather pants snug against his hips.

“Maybe you should invest in your own make up.”

“I have my own,” Thorne protested, “it’s just not here. Back on the bus or something.”

“Watch, we’ll find it after the show. Don’t worry, you look fine without it. And,” Peter eyed his bare chest as he shrugged into his long trench coat, “besides, no one is going to be looking at your eyes.”

Thorne crossed his arms over his chest letting out a playfully gasp, “my virtue!”

“You never had any virtue,” Peter tossed a pillow at his head, “come on. I’m sure our respective managers are downstairs in the lobby waiting to tell us off.”

Thorne laughed and left the room shirtless, no eyeliner, no hair gel, with Peter’s arm around his waist.


End file.
